"There are unsmiling faces in fetters and chains on a wheel in perpetual motion.
Who belong to all races and answer all names with no show of an outward emotion.
And they think it will make their lives easier, but the doorway before them is barred.
And the game never ends when your whole world depends on the turn of a friendly card." Alan Parsons

4/28/12

Five (three)
cliches attributed to liberals by Jonah the Whaleberg, courtesy of
the (fuck the) Washington Post.

Let
me repeat that. Fuck the Washington Post.

I want to say
first off, I am not a capital “L” liberal. That is a label, like Conservative, that has lost any semblance of meaning. I have thoughts and
ideas that are distinctly liberal and not retrogressive,
but I am much more to the left of the left of the left (or what I call the center today.)

‘Diversity is strength'

Yeah, and “Divide and conquer.”'

'Violence never solved
anything’

Yeah,
and “Might makes right.”

'The living Constitution’

Yeah and “Corporations are
people.”

Reducing ideals to bumper stickers is
all well and good, but at the end of the day they are so much wasted
paper and glue. I have come to realize that there are no redeeming,
creative thought processes concealed within the "conservative" brain (and a lot of "progressive" heads as well.)
It seems to me they are answering their own little voices (of how a
group of people think) and making shit up as they go along. Empathy
is not a strength amongst the status quo.

The damn Washington Post
wants me to subscribe (so I can have my name and address peddled by
their data-miners) in order to view the 3rd page of this
article (bucket of shit.) Did I say fuck the Washington Post.
Well, fuck the Washington Post.

How this inept
apologist and anti-historian can make a living writing this swill (I
know-nepotism and ignorance of or pandering to a select audience)
would be laughable if not for the truly despicable nature of his
thought process and the resulting harm it has and will cause. Is this
some kind of wonderful or what?

4/14/12

I have a love for good music. I have more of of a love for music that brings me to tears, as this is truly my only human response to that which is great. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie achieved that with this song. Every permutation of this song is beneficial no matter the source. It was perfection.

Vanilla Ice knew what he was doing. Moles and leeches have ways of perceiving that which we know nothing about. It is their gift. It is our curse. Not to belittle what I perceive as Truth I am wholeheartedly a fatalistic fanatic of this version by Annie Lennox and david bowie and Queen.

Origins are pleasantly amusing in that they invoke a certain mystique. A sense of belonging while not truly belonging so that “we the masses” may become one with the “force” being transmuted. I am as guilty of this phenomenon as the next person. Fitting in while remaining aloof is the “high wire” we step so that we may retain our individuality. I harbor under no illusions that we have a collective gullibility (we do,) nor that we preoccupy ourselves with “pop” culture to a malignant degree. However, within each of us is the capacity to appreciate truth and beauty. The Truth should set us free, but it wavers in its infancy and becomes that which is not named. Beauty becomes its antithesis and we extol hate, fear and greed as worthy traits.

Look within the deeper meanings of our existence and you find an emptiness. A gaping hole to be filled with anything to make our lives whole. Money, sex and power are temporary fixes to our greater demand. Violence satiates this need, but is self defeating. Blood can only satisfy the truly misogynistic and what is left for the rest of us? The accumulation of treasure is non productive; for every shiny object gained there is a commiserate shiny object lost. Power is not a difficult process to fathom. Some may think of it as strength, while others may believe it is knowledge of secret ordeals. Purely and simply, it is politics and the degree to which an individual will extend his or her force to other individuals. Sex is but a byproduct and institutionalized step to insure compliance.

I began this "blah-gurgle-gurgle" as an attempt to understand something far beyond my grasp. Pop music, in general and Rap (hip-hop) music, in particular has been a chimera to me. As with most “pop” culture I am stifled by my inability to comprehend both its significance and its pertinence. Believe me when I say I have tried and I would gladly welcome a fresh approach to this problem, but realistically I am flummoxed. Rap killed the metaphor and the rest of Pop has diluted the witty rhyme and clever turn of a phrase to a disneyfied flow of sickly, sweet syrup. I have no blame to throw around because as a whole most of us have become so homogenized we don't even realize it ourselves.

We have lost the capacity to criticize. Criticism is not a pejorative discipline. It is a reflection of what we are and what we hold True. In my opinion the critics are the last vestige of our journalistic heritage. When we have degraded to criticizing journalism, journalism itself is lost. I do not condone criticism borne of hate, fear, greed or any of its subsidiary units. That is not true criticism. I have learned to take my critical reading with a grain of salt. Do you?

Blind obedience and following is disgusting in any of its forms. I am only saddened by a willingness to embrace security over liberty. Fear of imaginary beings is tantamount to belief in same. May we survive this cognizant onslaught.